Never one to be outdone

I would love to tell you of all the wonderful things I have been getting up to lately, but it wouldn't really amount to much.

In 28 days I shall be emarking on my second tour of the largest country in the British Commonwealth and I can't fucking wait. Mostly because for the last two months or so work has been pretty damn quiet leaving me with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs and look at websites whom advise travellers about what really is the best way to blag a free flight upgrade.

Many websites advise travellers to arrive early, others say to arrive late. Some say to dress smart, I would imagine this is a given. But I'm assuming those that travel in business class, or the holy grail of flight travel, first class travel casually. I assume that wearing a suit for what could be in excess of 24 hours, isn't entirely comfortable. However, I can't really think of anything worse to wear on a long journey than some bad-ass tight motherfucking jeans, forcing you to re-arrange your trouser snake and bollocks every ten minutes. Maybe I shall wear a really nice denim jacket, I am flying with Air Canada after all. Oh the decision that need to be made.

Now that I've mentioned Canada's national carrier, I really hope they update their website. I want to know which films are available for me to watch. I know Canada is a bit behind the times, but October has passed us by. Update your in-flight entertainment part of your damn website. Ay.

Moving on to other things, the radiator is still leaking, so my frustration remains. The filling key for the boiler no longer operates, which is annoying. These two issues have to be sorted before we leave for the Commonwealth. My purple patch (phnarr phanrr) continues. I have now scored in my last 4 games. Although due to a shoulder injury I sustained in my last game I did not play last week, nor shall I play this week due to me visiting Brizzle!

Until next time readers...keep fucking on.

Weekend Plans

Someone shoot me. I've go another two hours of sheer boredom at work, it's Friday afternoon and frankly I could be doing better things with my time. That last comment is debatable.

This week has been a such a stop-start, half-arsed bitch of a five-day week. One second I've got plety to be getting on with, then it disappears as quickly as it arrived. To top it off I have to go to Ikea tonight to return some shelves which our wall refuses to accommodate. This is due to the fact that the wall is harder than Chuck Norris, Bruce Lee and John McClain put together. There will be 'Yipee-ki-aying' tonight dearest motherfuckers. However, I will invite Stella and Mary Jane to watch some TV with me later on.

Tomorrow will consist of me putting together some sort of Ikea bought unit to accommodate my DVD collection. I will also have to repair the damage to the wall that pissed me off so much last Saturday. I will then watch England vs South Africa in the Rugby Union. A game that is payed by gentleman, albeit gentleman in the shape of brick shit-houses.

I'm not playing football this Sunday. A shame really as we have picked up two good wins over the last couple of weekends, coupled with the fact that I've scored four goals in my last two games.

This weekend shall also be the last with our lodger. He won't be a great loss, in fact the peace and quiet will be a welcome addition. Although we will have to get somebody else in quite soon. We do need a washer/dryer you know.

How can one person be such a twat?

So L and I have decided to rent our spare bedroom out to a young chap for the sum of £300 a month. The extra income is very handy, but fuck me with a big stick the little cunt is making us work for it...

Before I go into a full-scale torrent of abuse. Let me put a couple of things out there:

a) He had to ask L how to use the tin-opener. Who the fuck does not know how to use a tin-opener?

b) He expects us to cook every fucking meal for him, even though we said we will be sharing the cooking.

c) After the meal (which we have cooked) he does not offer to wash up. He had to ask where to put the dirty dish, "Does this go in the wash bowl." No Alan you have to try and hide it in your fucking cheesy foreskin you inbred Smoggy bastard.

d) He has cooked once, it was alright, although it shouldn't take the best part of four hours to cook pasta in a tomato based sauce with a bit of cheese.

e) He invites his girlfriend round. This is fair enough, but just let us know so we know if we have to cook for one more. He could go one better and actually cook if his girlfriend is coming around, especially when he knew we were out at the fucking gym.

f) He's boring.

g) He should seriously reconsider his sexual orientation. Fair play to him though, he appears to have found the only person in the world whom also thinks he is straight. I might have mentioned this in a previous blog but I can't be arsed to check. I couldn't give a flying fuck if he is gay, in fact I would probably prefer it.

h) He talks through his fucking nose. I don't think I have ever met anyone whom speaks so nasally. Is 'nasally' a word? I can't be arsed to check, I need to rant.

I could mention more things. But there you have it. He is a fucking waste of space. Soon he will be a waste of aspace with nowhere to live as in luittle over a week he will be gone.

Unsurprisingly this has not put me off getting another tenant. Indeed I have already made tentative enquiries, although we should probably have criteria that needs to be met. This could include:

a) Can they use a tin opener? However I shall not take their word for granted, I shall ask them to open a tin of baked beans.

b) Can they cook? I shall then ask them to heat up the baked beans.

c) Are they boring? I shall ask them to recount a personal experience that has to keep me interested for more than three minutes.

d) They must, MUST have lived with other people that they are not either related to or had/having a relationship with.

What a fucking arsehole.

Apathy Lethargy

Rearrange that and you get 'Healthy Gay Prat'. Anyway...

...these are two things that I have felt a lot quite recently. This is not good considering the amount of work that our house needs. I think it's just because the jobs left are shitty little ones, or maybe because it's because I can't be arsed. Anyway, I'm a healthy gay prat at the moment.

On a slightly chirpier note I scored a hat-trick for my football team yesterday. I figured that this was my first hat-trick since the age of 17/18. I was substituted soon afterwards in which I felt (and was told my many of fellow players) like I was running in slow motion. Prior to this I didn't feel any tiredness in my legs but all of a sudden I just couldn't run. Maybe this healthy gay prat isn't so healthy after all.

In 66 days I shall be embarking once more across the Atlantic. This cannot come soon enough. I am in desperate need of a holiday.

Back Due To Popular Demand

Don't fret people, I'm back with my witty words of wisdom and ramblings that will include all manners of bigotry, defamation and vile jokes. That my friends, is a promise.

I've been rather busy this summer with buying a house and such like. It took a fucking age to get the living room decorated and the green is greenier than we would have like. Lyla thinks it looks like 'Green Adidas Shoe', personally I think it's more like Dunlop Green Flash, of which I owned a pair and they were fucking ace! There's a little bit of work left to do, but I'm sure Lyla won't mind doing it.

The kitchen is just about finished off, which is nice because it means Lyla can cook my tea every night without having to fall over boxes and whatnot. I thought she had fucked the oven t'other, due to her dropping chicken (that should be used as a euphemism for drug taking) where the gas comes out. However, I think it burnt off the chicken fat that had congealed (love that word) and now we're cooking on gas again. Literally (overused word).

The utility room appears to have become the home of the fridge/freezer with little room for anything else. However, due to us being snapped at the moment we cannot get a fridge/freezer that will fit in the gap left by the previous one, so we have to 'make do' with Goliath.

The bathroom is also sorted, she scrubs well does Lyla. Only thing she needs to sort out now are the bedrooms like, eh. Then I can play my playstation in comfortable surroundings. She doesn't know how good she has it.

That's all from the 1950s this week.

Death to MySPazz

I have joined facebook. It was inevitable. However Lyla caved before I did, therefore that makes me a better person than she.

It is now less than 24 hours since I became a fully-fledged member of the aforementioned interweb site and I must admit that it is incrediby fantastic. I may become pissed off with it in time, but for time being it is awesome. I don't have to have a fancy 'homepage' like on MySpazz and Tom isn't everyone's friend.

I do find it strange that it doesn't recognise my old secondary school though. I have requested it, but we'll have to see if it appears as an option. Although if the uptake of people I used to go to school with is anything like that of MySpazz then I could well be on my lonesome. Perhaps the people I went to school with have found real friends, in the real worldand don't have to rely on a computer to communicate with others. Personally I believe that none of them have the intelligence to use a computer. But I suppose that is what you get when you go to a secondary school located smack bang in the middle of a council estate.

What else??? I have been camping for the first time ever (yes, my first time ever). I am accustomed to going on holiday and living in a hotel for two weeks or however long my damn holiday is. However living like a neanderthal for two days was pretty fun, especially that between two Yanks, a Canadian and a Brit (albeit a Northern-bred one) we managed to piss off most of Gloucestershire! Taxis, ordering drinks and/or food, the non-ordering of drinks and/or food etc etc.

I got to see some penguins too. They were most excellent in their excellency.

My holiday in Paris with Lyla

I went to Paris too. It was good. We went on a big train and it went under the sea. When we got to the other side Lyla told me that we were in France.

Everybody in France spoke funny. We went to a big museum and there was lots of paintings on the wall, we also saw some fancy lights and chairs. There was a pyramid but we were not in Egypt, and it was made of glass!

There was a building that looked as though it had been turned inside out. It was cool. I saw a lot of bones in some tunnels that was a long way under the ground, I was scared as I thought some ghosts might chase me.

We went to the top of a tower and we climbed all the way, apart from a lift at the end, as you can't walk all the way to the top. I got to the top before Lyla did, she told me it wasn't a race, but I think she is too old to run up stairs.

It was very hot when we were there, I wore my shorts a lot. Lyla ate a lot a ice cream and cheese. I think the food in France is not as nice as people tell me. I had snails on my last night, they were salty. I usually step on them and make them go crunch!

We also went to a very very big house. It was bigger than my parents house, and it had a huge garden. My dad wouldn't like to mow all that grass. We went on a train to get there too. There were people on that train who spoke funny but I could understand them better. Lyla told me they were from America. I've been to America before, it was good and I saw Mickey Mouse.

Then we had to leave because Lyla had to go to work on Monday. We got the train under the sea again. On the way back home they was a boy who cried all the way. I didn't cry, Lyla told me I was a good boy. When we got back to Leeds we went home and had some tea. I ate it all up and then I went to bed.

The end.

Martyn
aged 7 (and a half)